


Pain

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-15
Updated: 2000-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe's thoughts just before the final shot of the movie. It doesn't end too well for Billy. (But we suspected as much.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain

My ass is cold on the stairs. The last of the bottle is hardly worth the effort to pour it, so I don't. I shift; my ass is still cold. Fuck Billy. No, I already have, no point in going back for more. The gun's hot against my side and I dig my elbow into it. The weight's satisfying, gratifying. I grind it in harder.

Bruce will be along; he'll want the dirt of the great blow up. I'll let him find me--one last shot and then good-bye.

*

/ /"What the fuck do you want?" Billy snaps. He's pissed off I found him, obviously, but doesn't start the fight over again. He thinks we're good, we're buddies.

I hold out the bottle. He considers not taking it, for about four fucking seconds. Some things don't change. Billy takes the bottle with a grunt. I don't know what he means by it; I obviously can't read him any more.

He cracks the bottle; it sounds like bones breaking. The rye's cheap; it'll burn as it goes down. He passes me the bottle and I can smell him on it. Billy and rye. I take a swallow, but I'm not trying to drink him under the table, not this time.

He tries to take the bottle back. I don't let it go. He goes to yank it back but our hands touch. Not exactly a magic fucking moment, but I'm willing to take it. He doesn't fight as I bright the bottle to his lips and drinks. He swallows, trusting me not to choke him.

Fucking idiot.

I force him to drink. And drink. And drink. And he either swallows or drowns in it, I don't particularly care which. He finally breaks away and gasps for breath, and I drink as he does.

He's getting mad. "What the fuck do you want, Joe?" he snaps.

He shouldn't ask; he knows. He's shaking. I'm not. Everything is so clear now. I take out the gun.

"Put that fucking thing away," Billy says.

I smile at him. Not again. I put my hand on his chest; I can feel his heartbeat. It's erratic./ /

*

My face hurts. Billy gave as good as he got. My ass is now numb, but I can't get up, not yet. Not unless Bruce comes. I can't; my legs don't work too good. Everything is cold: my ass, the gun, my nose. Cold. Fucking Edmonton. There's no snow on the ground but it feels like there's going to be before morning.

I stare down at the blood on my boot. Billy's blood. My face still fucking hurts. Billy got in a couple good punches. I would have killed him right there, the fucker. My dick hurts too; too much friction. Blow's fucking me over. There's a gram still stashed in the van; I'd get up and get it, but the van's too far away and I don't want to fuck this up. It's over. I'm over. I dig my elbow into the gun and when that doesn't hurt enough I rub my hand against my crotch.

Fuck.

The pain's dulled with the alcohol, but it still feels as if I sanded my cock with a blaster. Sand-blasted Cock. There's a song in there. I start to hum the first verse but Billy's split my lip open and it fucking hurts so I stop. Not like I'm gonna have a chance to write it down.

Besides, it needs Billy.

*

/ /Billy's soft and warm; he doesn't fight me. His hands are curled up under his jaw and he's time travelling. I let him. There's no need to wake him up for this.

He doesn't fight me as I take off his jeans. Billy's skin is warm. He doesn't help me, not even a little. I don't mind. It's not the first time Billy fights me with passivity.

There's no lube. I spit in my hand and it takes a while because my mouth is so fucking dry. I drank too much. He drank too much. Fuck. My dick's hard at the sight of Billy stretched out in front of me, but it's weak. Not like when we were kids and we could fuck all night.

It's easier to remember him like that, fifteen years ago we couldn't get enough. We'd play together all day and then fuck all night. He needed me. I needed him. Fuck. The sound of dripping distracts me; fucking pipes in the wall. I push into him before I lose the hard-on entirely.

I should have used more lube. It burns and I know I'm ripping him, but it's a bit too late for that. "Fuck, Billy, why do you always have to do things the hard way?"

He doesn't answer. Asshole. His body starts to tremble and it takes me a while to realize it's just me, banging against it. I can't do this. Fuck it. I pull out and wipe myself off. I'm not even hard as I dress.

He looks so fucking peaceful. Hadn't struggled at all when I put the gun to his chest. He looked at me, pissed, but thought I was fooling around up until I pulled the fucking trigger. The contact point against his shirt and skin still smelled burnt.

I'm standing in his blood. Fuck. It's not like I don't give him his fucking dignity back. I pull his jeans up before I leave. / /

*

My dick hurts and my face hurts and my ass is still cold. Fuck this. Bruce is coming around the corner with his lights and camera.

I'll supply the action.


End file.
